give her the meagre consolation, 'He may recover yet. I have seen worse
cases than this pull through, and be as bright as ever they were.'

And then, one afternoon, when the setting sun was flooding the room with
a golden glory, the little head turned on the pillow. 'Mother!'

The sound of that word, not uttered since she had seen him in the
doctor's house that first terrible day, was like the sweetest music in
her ear. Stooping over him she met the clear conscious gaze of the
blue eyes.

'So tired, mother! Put your hand under my cheek. Good-night.'

The eyelids closed, and the limbs relaxed in healthy sleep. The
mother sat down, and though her arm became stiff and weary, not a
muscle of it moved.

The doctor came in just before he woke.

'He has spoken; he knew me,' she said; and the doctor nodded and smiled.
And then a minute after the boy raised his head.

'Where am I, mother?' he asked feebly.

'In bed, darling. You've been ill.'

'Where's my button?'

'He'll do,' said the doctor contentedly; 'keep him quiet, and feed him
up.'